A Puppet's Strings
by Egyptian Dreamer
Summary: The moment Riddle sensed Ginny Weasley taking the diary back from Harry, he deliberately released a page from its depths. The diary was destroyed but with the survival of that single page, the Horcrux's survival was ensured. When Harry stumbles upon the blank sheet he thinks nothing of it, unaware of the new plans Riddle's made for him. And this time there won't be any escape.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone!**

**With ****_Seeing the Truth _****finally over I'm giving you another LVxHP fic. For those of you who voted in the poll on my profile, you'll recognize it as the story with the most votes.**

**I know most of you want a sequel for ****_Ripped Apart _****but even though I've already got the beginning planned out, I haven't figured out the ending yet. There WILL be a sequel, just not yet.**

**Hope you enjoy my newest piece of work!**

**Warnings****: underage slash and non-con. Harry is 13, a bit extreme I know, so those of you who are against it should refrain from reading. The way he looks in the 3rd film just begs to be taken advantage of.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ****_Harry Potter _****or any of its characters. The credit for that goes to the brilliant J. . **

**CHAPTER ONE**

Footsteps, hurried and urgent, echoed down the hallway.

Harry gasped as he nearly tripped over his feet, bracing himself on the nearest wall. Ragged pants spilled past red hued lips, green eyes looking around wildly, as though expecting the very shadows to manifest and ambush him.

From the corridor behind him, another pair of footsteps, slow and measured compared to his frantic strides, caused his entire frame to grow rigid.

Breathing heavily, he wiped his drenched brow with the sleeve of his pajama top, the thin sky-blue material dampening from his cold sweat.

He jumped when the shuffling of feet drew closer still.

A near whimper escaped the boy the moment his legs failed to obey the instinctual command to flee, grabbing at the rough stone wall to support his trembling body. Teeth digging in his lip hard enough to puncture the soft flesh, he willed his limbs to move and it was only due to the adrenaline pumping through his veins that his body spurred into action.

He had been running for a good part of the last half hour in hope of losing his pursuer or happening upon a teacher.

It was awfully late, however, or rather awfully early what with it being five in the morning and he seriously doubted any staff member was still patrolling the corridors. So far, he had only run into Filch's cat, and that was once. So many hallways and corridors had passed by in a blur, and Harry was feeling so disoriented that he got lost at one point.

Not anymore, though.

It might not have been flooded for a change, but Harry would always recognize the second floor amongst a mass of others.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom wasn't far from there; only one floor up. He needed to get to professor Lupin, to warn someone of the monster that had been unleashed inside the castle before -!

Harry cried out, the sudden scorching in his hand sending him crumbling to his knees.

Eyes half-lidded from the pain, he glanced at the fiery red markings, clutching at his wrist harder with each pulsating sting they sent through his body.

He despaired, looking forlornly at the corridor on the far end; he was so close.

Silence, thick and concrete, met his ears and Harry froze. Shuddering at the chill that raced up his spine, he tipped his head slightly to the side, chancing a single glance above his shoulder. A drawn out moan was torn from deep within his throat, something inside his chest constricting almost viciously upon sighting the silhouette of the other, tall and unmoving, observing Harry in morbid silence with his head tilted as if studying the most intriguing object in the world.

It unnerved Harry as much as it terrified him.

He didn't want that person's attention; it suffocated him with its severity.

The raven haired boy struggled upright, burning hand cradled fearfully to his torso. He took a shaky step back, aware that his body had surpassed its limits long ago. If it wasn't for the icy, undulated horror nested in the deepest recesses of his very being, he'd have passed out from exhaustion already.

But he couldn't take much more of this mental torture.

There was nowhere else to go; he knew it, and his deadly pursuer knew it as well. He was too tired from this game of cat and mouse, of the twisted version of hide and seek that he had been forced into. A game that had a predestined outcome, his participation was solely for the sick pleasure of the puppeteer.

He pulled the strings, and Harry was expected to dance accordingly.

He pressed himself into motion, staggering through the all too familiar door of the abandoned bathroom in a final effort to alert someone, anyone, before his voice would be silenced, never again allowed to speak of the night's events.

He shut the door behind him, the creaking sound it produced reverberating all around him.

"Myrtle," Harry called out quietly, dragging his feet over to the stalls. "Myrtle!" he whispered, frantic when he peeked into the last one and there was still no sight of Moaning Myrtle.

That was impossible! She was always here.

So why…

A strangled sob passed through his pursed lips, leaning his back against the tiled wall.

…why not when he needed her the most?

He didn't have any more chances, this was it. Everyone was going to suffer the consequences of his reckless, unaware action.

But he hadn't meant to bring this upon them, truly. He was a clueless little kid when it came to the world he belonged in. How was he to know the significance of such a seemingly insignificant action when it had never been taught to him? Perhaps, if he had been raised amongst his kind, but that hadn't been the case and there was no use wondering about the ifs now that there was no going back.

The unmistakable creaking of the wooden door jerked him out of his inner turmoil, making him huddle in to himself the moment it slid open enough to reveal the figure on the threshold.

The teen strode in, familiar features catching on the moonlight and flooring Harry's mind.

Yes, even if he had wanted to doubt it at first, there was no mistake now.

The same young man he was certain he had killed in the vastness of the Chamber of Secrets was standing right before his eyes, very much alive and real.

No longer a faded memory from a tattered diary, Tom Riddle's pallor now held a healthy glow rather than the whiteness of a corpse. His overall appearance, however, was precisely like back then, when Harry had first met him. And with Riddle's stance – Harry's own wand held elegantly between deft, lean digits and those deep, _dark_ green eyes centered entirely on his person – Harry felt as though he were still trapped in the Chamber's depths.

With the exception that there would be no songbird to aid him now, no old hat to present him with a glimmering blade and no poisonous fangs to severe Riddle's life-force before he had a chance to fully resurrect himself.

After all, the young Dark Lord was already restored; Harry had provided him with the perfect means for that.

"Won't you ask me to give you your want, this time?" The smooth tenor was exactly as Harry remembered it for it had haunted him many nights in his sleep.

"What do you want?" Harry shot back, exasperated and much too tired to prolong this.

Riddle clucked his tongue, waving a finger at him admonishingly as he stepped closer.

"Did I not make myself clear enough for you earlier?"

Harry jaw clenched tightly. "You talked about my magic, but you didn't say what the bloody hell you want from me. Why? Why did you do this?!"

Riddle hummed quietly, tapping the borrowed wand almost speculatively against his open palm. "I could say because I'm cruel but I suppose, it's my motivation you're wondering about."

The teen smiled sardonically, and that was all the warning Harry was given.

In the blink of an eye, Riddle was invading his space, snaking a long arm around his waist to pull him away from the wall and flush against his own body, while fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging until Harry's head was bent backwards.

Hot breath fanned across his face, and Harry's eyes grew large, his body unbearably tense.

The steely grip around his waist strengthened and Harry stopped breathing altogether for a second there, mouth parting in a muted groan.

Those dark orbs never left his face, roving over its every detail with a level of fixation that couldn't possibly be healthy. Harry had never thought such intensity could actually be contained inside a single pair of eyes, and at that moment, he had a hunch he could guess Riddle's answer before it was given to him.

"To possess every fiber of your being; it's what I desire, and exactly what I'll acquire."

Harry's heart gave a little flutter of pure panic, the raw conviction in that tone giving no room for doubt. There was no question about it; what Riddle wanted, he got, it was as simple as that.

He pushed at the other's unyielding chest with his hands, squirming to break free.

Riddle bent down abruptly and in response to the proximity, Harry's motions ceased just as suddenly.

He wetted his lips, tongue drawing slowly along the flesh in such a way, like someone preparing to dig into the scrumptious meal he had been craving for the longest time. Riddle's face was so close that his tongue actually grazed Harry's lips somewhere along its journey, making the boy inhale sharply.

"Mine," It was whispered against reddish lips, a single promise, dark and ominous and it had Harry's body freezing up long before a smoldering mouth descended upon him, seemingly molding against his lips.

"Mphhh!" he tried to speak, to dislodge himself and protest, but in retrospect, what he achieved was only an offering for more as Riddle's tongue delved inside his mouth, relentless in its exploration and steadily divesting Harry of his very oxygen with its ferocity.

Knees finally buckling beneath him, Harry whimpered into the kiss and the responding growl sent violent tremors throughout his body.

Riddle pulled back, and Harry's oversensitive skin erupted in goosebumps from the sudden rush of cold air against his burning lips. He didn't know what sort of picture he was making, but Riddle's pupils dilated as they took him in, the teen plunging back in after another breathy whisper of 'Mine!'

That one word, so much more fervent than the previous time, had the kiss matching it in sentiment and Harry's inexperienced lips were soon bruising under its force, tearing slightly in the places where harsh nips were being bestowed.

Entirely supported by Riddle's hold on him, Harry felt like he was drowning.

Each time they'd break apart for air, the other boy would always mutter that single word, and it felt like a brand against whatever available patch of skin it was breathed; a verbal assertion of claim to go along with the red mark on Harry's hand. Too worn out, Harry had no strength remaining to fight him off. He could only shut his eyes and endure.

He couldn't escape, not now and not ever, and he had no one to blame but his own stubbornness and naivety.

If only he had gone straight to Dumbledore after starting to see the signs…

Things might have even ended up differently.

**_Two months ago…_**

Harry blinked in rapid succession, one hand coming up to reach beneath his glasses and rub at his left eye in the hope of relieving some of the sleepiness, while the other clutched tighter the lit flashlight. He shifted quietly underneath the cover he had drawn over his head to shut off most of the flashlight's intensity; the last thing he wanted was for one of his relatives to spot the dim illumination underneath the door of his bedroom on their way downstairs for a glass of water.

He looked at the potion's book sprawled open before him and then turned a bleary glare towards the roll of parchment laid upon its right page.

The simple title **_Shrinking Potions _**that he had scrawled at the top seemed as though it was mocking him.

He felt like groaning at the prospect of going to sleep without adding another word to his essay other than its prearranged title for the second night in a row. But his old, second year's potions book was of no significant help, either. The chapter about that particular potion contained nothing but its ingredients and the proper way it should be brewed.

Somehow he doubted Snape had assigned them with an entire roll of parchment essay if he only wanted the information inside their previous year's textbook.

Having been aware all along of the trouble he was going to face with his Potions Professor's essay, he had stowed a small ink bottle, some gathered up parchments and his quill inside his school robes' pockets. The potions book he had tucked up against his stomach and held it secure by tugging extra hard at the belt of his school trousers. With his physique, after pulling back down his shirt and vest, there was no difference with the little extra something underneath the layer of clothes.

He had had a bit of trouble with breathing, but since his mission was accomplished, it had been worth it.

_Hermione jerked her head the other way while he was making preparations, face flushed to the roots of her hair, while Ron was giving him a very disturbed look._

"_Dude, you give dedication to holiday homework an entirely new meaning."_

_Harry snorted, throwing a bunched up piece of parchment from inside his trunk at his friend's head, snickering when it hit him square in the face before landing on the floor._

"_Knowing my relatives, I'll have no access to my school things for the rest of the summer. And since Snape gave us the toughest assignment out of all the teachers, I need to at least write _something_ before next year starts or he'll use it as more excuse to take off House points right at the start of term."_

_Ron stared at him agape, before he let out a low whistle. "Man! It sure sucks to be you."_

_Harry smiled when Hermione's History of Magic textbook connected with the side of Ron's head, the loud thud resonating throughout their compartment, followed by a delayed, drawn-out whimper. _

And he had certainly been right in his assumption.

After receiving him at the train station – the Muggle one, of course, not the platform inside the barrier where the Hogwarts Express made back and forth journeys – they had driven back to Privet Drive and after ordering him to go change out of the _abominating _clothes he was wearing, locked every single thing that had to do with the magical world inside the cupboard under the stairs under heavy lock and key.

But when he was done with the fastest exchange of clothes he had ever made, Harry had stuffed the belongings he had stored while still on the train under the loose floorboard beneath his bed as soundlessly as possibly. Replacing the floorboard and making sure that nothing seemed out of place, he had straightened his wrinkled, too large t-shirt and made his way down where he passed Uncle Vernon his Hogwarts uniform.

The huge man had refused to so much as look at the clothing, instead keeping a close eye on Harry as the boy shut them in his trunk himself.

And to think he had gone to such lengths – enduring the most stuffing ride ever because the book was digging in his ribs the entire way back – only to fail at the essay anyway.

Seriously, he might as well not have touched it at all during the holiday.

If only he had been back at Hogwarts… the library would have surely been able to provide him with at least something more than a mere list of ingredients.

And asking Hermione about it was crossed out since his relatives had forbidden him to write to any of his friends. The only reason they agreed to releasing Hedwig at nights so she could feed was because one of the neighbors inquired about the peculiar screeches that could be heard at random from the house.

Not only did the Dursleys lie about getting a pet parrot for their little Dudders, they were also giving Harry the stink eye for forcing them under the neighborhood's scrutiny and had shortened his meals down to one a day for two whole weeks.

Of course, each morning they'd storm Harry's bedroom in their search for any envelope or package that Hedwig might have brought in upon her return.

And no letters meant no news from his friends all summer long, a situation that steered too close to last year for his liking, but it also meant no way for him to ask Hermione for help with their potions work; he had no doubt the girl was already done with most, if not all, of their homework.

How precious was this? He actually wanted to do his school essays but his guardians wouldn't let him!

He imagined that Ron's mum would probably be chasing him around the Burrow with a broomstick to get him to do his own homework, Fred and George as well now that he thought about it.

A weary sigh passed through his lips.

He pulled the roll closer to him and a sheet of parchment was dislodged with the sharp movement, extracting itself from the rest and sliding against his knee.

The boy blinked sluggishly at it, lifting the roll of parchment he had started with to inspect the sheets, spreading them one by one in search of any ripping signs that would indicate the extra sheet had been torn from within the roll's masses. Finding none, however, he shrugged; he must have grabbed it accidentally from his trunk in his hurry.

Uncorking the ink bottle carefully, he dipped his quill inside the black liquid and started on the lone sheet, listing the ingredients the book instructed with at least a minute pause between each to listen for any sounds in the bedrooms surrounding his.

He nodded once, satisfied, when he was done. He'd just make a few notes for the time being; no reason to waste an entire roll for that.

He shut the bottle of ink and put down his quill, studying the list and comparing it with the book's.

_Minced daisy roots._

_Sliced caterpillars._

_One rat spleen. _

Shouldn't it specify how many caterpillars were needed, though? Like with the spleen? Oh, wait, it did in the text.

Harry's chin jutted against his chest and he jostled awake, flashing the light at a better angle on the sheet as he went on.

_A splash of cowbane. _

_A dash of leech juice._

Seriously? As if the rat spleen wasn't enough they'd have to squash leeches and extract the juices too.

His eyelids fluttered a couple of times, the words going in and out of focus.

No, really, he was thankful they were wearing gloves during Potions for this sort of thing. Still, it made touching those ingredients, and all the ingredients he had come in contact with so far, no less disgusting.

Green orbs, abnormally dim in the limited light, rolled back inside his skull, body tipping forwards as he succumbed to fatigue.

A faint grunt escaped his lips when he landed atop the flashlight, but Harry didn't open his eyes again, already out cold.

With Hedwig out to hunt and no more scratches on the parchment from the quill, silence fell over the narrow room, the curtains billowing occasionally in the summer breeze and permitting the moonlight to shine through. It wasn't much to stir the slumbering boy though, and thus, inside the darkness of the makeshift tent on the bed, the black letters of the list that were being absorbed inside the parchment went completely unnoticed.

The tiny paper cut on Harry's index finger from where he had prickled it in the sheet's corner on his way down was steadily splotching the parchment, the dark red dots disappearing one by one the moment they landed on the page, sucked as though hungrily compared to the ink.

A while later, the cut oozed no more blood and with nothing else to absorb, the page was left utterly spotless…

Like nothing had ever touched its surface.

**_to be continued…_**

**Thoughts on the fic?**

**The slash part will come later, the next chapters will be of the events that led to Harry's predicament. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**I know I said the next chapters will be about the events that led up to Harry's situation but I've changed my mind. Those will be in flashbacks.

**WARNINGS: **male x male,

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

_Italics _: flashbacks, thoughts

"**_ssspeech" _**: Parseltongue

**CHAPTER TWO**

The door to his dormitory slid shut behind him, and Harry leaned against it, just barely keeping himself upright.

On wobbly legs, he trudged inside, not even bothering with keeping quiet.

And why should he, anyway? Riddle's Sleeping Charm from a few hours prior was still in effect.

He was half tempted to just lie down on the floor, but he forced himself to ignore the protest of his aching limbs in favor of reaching his bed, where he promptly collapsed on top of the covers.

The pajamas, soaked through with his sweat, were sticking uncomfortably to his skin, restricting his movements and raking his entire body with spasmodic shivers.

The mattress felt so comfortable, however, so unbelievably soft that Harry stood no chance.

Exhaustion finally took over, rendering every single one of his muscles useless. Eyelids fluttered close, long lashes tickling his skin with their feathery touch, and all thoughts fled his brain, allowing him a few blissful hours of dream free sleep.

When later on he had the fleeting sensation that someone was shaking him, he didn't so much as twitch before slumber reclaimed him.

The next time wakefulness made its appearance, was in the form of a bucketful of icy water.

Harry bolted upright, spluttering and gasping, the sound multiplying as it was echoed by the others in the dormitory.

Removing his glasses, he swept a hand over his face, shuddering from the drenched sheets and clothes that surrounded him when he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and squinted up at the person looming over his bed. Giving up the battle with his eyesight, Harry put on his glasses and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of a fuming professor McGonagall glaring down at him.

He could only gulp awkwardly in response.

Hands moving to her hips in an all too familiar reproachful manner, the elderly witch turned away, "Would anyone care to explain what on Merlin's name you're doing still in bed at this time of the day?"

All boys cowered under her stare, the silence that stretched on interrupted only by the sound of chattering teeth.

"S-sorry, professor." Dean mumbled, "We d-didn't mean to o-oversleep."

"Oversleep?" McGonagall repeated, scowling. "At 1:30 pm., one doesn't call that a mere case of oversleeping, Mr. Thomas. You and your fellow Gryffindors have lost an entire morning of classes."

"What?!" Harry and Ron cried out, at the same time that Neville slipped on his wet coverings and landed on the floor with a yelp.

"B-b-b-but, professor, we h-h-had no idea it wa-ACHOO- …was s-so late."

"Spare me your excuses, Mr. Finnegan. All of you have detention with me every night for the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Ron squeaked, scrambling back against the headboard the moment McGonagall directed her narrowed eyes at him.

"That is correct, Mr. Weasley. And for your own good, I advise you to set up alarms from now on." The woman paused, sweeping her gaze over them all before gesturing sharply towards the adjacent bathroom. "Lunch should be served in half an hour. All of you are to make yourselves presentable by then and come down to the Great Hall."

With that, their Head of House pivoted on her heels and exited the dormitory, nodding at a flustered Hermione on her way out.

She marched over to Harry and Ron, standing at the space between their beds with her arms crossed over her chest and one foot tapping against the floor in a relentless and incessant rhythm. Almond colored eyes were spitting fire as they kept shooting from one boy to another.

Ron visibly paled, the freckles on his face standing out in stark contrast.

The moment the young witch opened her mouth, he flung out an arm, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

"His fault!"

"Hey!" Harry yelled indignantly, grabbing at his pillow and pelting Ron with it. "What the heck did I do?"

"I don't know!" Ron shouted back, taking hold of the offending object and sending it soaring back the way it had come. "But better you than me!"

"What sort of logic is that?!"

"Enough!" Hermione's voice boomed inside the room, causing Harry to falter with his arm poised backwards, ready to launch his pillow again, and Ron to wince at the magnitude of the volume.

"Boys!" Hermione harrumphed, muttering incoherently as she stomped towards the bathroom, her irked grumbling echoing all the way outside.

Dean and Seamus exchanged quick glances, sending identical looks of pity towards Harry and Ron's way.

"Honestly!" She re-emerged, a bunch of dark red towels held securely in her arms. Neville, who was still battling to untangle himself from his sheets on the floor, was unfortunate enough to have landed only feet away from the entrance to the bathroom after his tumbling off the bed and caught up in her rage as she was, the witch hardly even noticed that she stepped on his fingers on her way out.

Both Harry and Ron cringed at Neville's pained cry, sweat dropping when Hermione gave an absentminded apology before rounding on them again.

"What time did you go to sleep last night? And how could you have neglected to set up your alarms? How many times do I have to tell you never to forget about them on a school day?!" She passed three of the folded towels to the other boys, her eyes not once leaving the hunched forms of her friends and missing entirely the croaked 'thanks' that Dean and Seamus uttered.

"Really, Hermione…" Harry ventured, hesitantly, "we didn't do it on purpose."

From his bed, Ron nodded vigorously along, and Harry had to squash the guilt that threatened to swarm him. He certainly wasn't lying about himself; he had been out cold the moment his head hit the pillow, there was no way he could have woken only a couple of hours later to catch his classes when it was already morning by the time he went to bed.

The rest of them, on the other hand…

He hadn't known the Charm Riddle had placed over them was going to last so long, but in a way, he supposed it made sense. It'd have been suspicious if everyone else had been up and about and Harry was the only one still sleeping.

Brilliant, truly, except for the part that now all of them had detention for the next two weeks.

Something landed on top of his head seconds before every single hair felt like it was being yanked out.

"Don't space out when I'm scolding you. Honestly, aren't you considerate in the slightest?"

"Ow! Consid-?! Hermione, ouch!"

The girl rubbed at the towel one last time before withdrawing her hands with a scoff.

Harry groaned, eyes tearing slightly at the corners from the resonating pain on his scalp. Choked laughter reached his ears and he flung the fluffy towel off his head, intending to smack Ron with it, but Hermione was already ahead of him. The barely suppressed laughs were abruptly cut off when another towel hit Ron squarely in the face.

"Go shower and change." the witch demanded, "I'll be waiting downstairs."

Jumping at the chance to get away before she launched into another preaching session, both boys leaped from their beds without needing to be told twice and nearly sprinted for the bathroom.

Hermione shook her head, "You should do the same before you catch a cold." she said pointedly, addressing the remaining occupants before she turned and, in a perfect imitation of their Transfiguration teacher, stormed outside; leaving the other three scurrying to obey, lest she return to make them the next targets of her wrath.

**-xXx-**

By the time they scrubbed themselves clean and dressed into their school uniforms, twenty minutes had come and gone in the blink of an eye. When they entered the common room, however, they found an eerily calm Hermione waiting patiently for them in one of the sofas.

The witch even smiled upon spotting them, hopping off the cushion and strolling over to link her arms with theirs.

"I'm starving," she told them cheerily, dragging them over the Portrait hole which leapt aside to let them past, "I wonder what we're having today. I've been having this craving for chicken pie all morning long."

Completely horrified by this point, the two boys could only stare helplessly at one another.

"Look, 'Mione," Ron started in a trembling voice, "we're really, really sorry, okay? So please, whatever you've got in store, can it be a tiny bit less painful?"

Their friend didn't falter in her steps, but she did favor Ron with a sideways glance. "What're you talking about, Ronald?"

Harry would have buried his face in his palms if he could. Nothing good had ever come from her calling Ron by that name. He briefly wondered if it was too late to run back to Gryffindor Tower and burrow himself under the thick covers of his bed. Suffering McGonagall's wrath for a second time that very same day was beginning to seem more appealing by each second.

Perhaps a sliver of his intentions had shown on his face, or maybe Hermione knew him better than he thought, because the girl tightened her grasp on his arm just a fraction.

All notions of fleeing having effectively been swept away, Harry gave her a strained smile, which thankfully appeared to put her mind at ease.

"And anyway, I figured the students' reaction should be plenty of punishment, not to mention that professor McGonagall already scolded you, so –"

"Whoa, wait." Ron came to an abrupt halt, consequentially pulling them to a stop as well. "What do you mean the students' reaction?"

"Hm? Oh, that." Hermione said dismissively, starting forwards once more. "We shared classes with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins this morning. What do you think that means?"

"That they were miserable without our awesome selves there to entertain them?" Ron offered with a nervous laugh.

The brown haired witch tutted in reply.

"Hermione!" Harry urged, exasperated.

She must have found them pretty amusing because she laughed too joyfully, given the situation. "It's rather simple, actually. Everyone's heard about your collective skipping of classes by now."

"Wonderful!" Harry exclaimed with mock cheeriness.

"Hey, aren't you enjoining our misery a little too much?!" Ron accused, glaring when all Hermione did was laugh again.

"What can I say? I'm cruel like that, and you more than deserve it, so suck it up."

Crestfallen, they could only trudge along as the girl brought them all before the heavy, double doors of the Great Hall where she unhooked their joined arms and pushed them open, Harry and Ron following after her with heavy hearts.

The loud chatter that dominated the entirety of the massive room was instantly silenced, and Harry almost felt claustrophobic when every single person's attention shifted towards the doors, somehow managing to make the Hall appear smaller than it actually was.

Undeterred, Hermione walked calmly over to the Gryffindor table and took a seat without so much as glancing their way.

Grumbling unintelligibly, Ron followed suit and after a chaste glance at the Head Table, Harry did as well.

Great, Dumbledore was already staring. Smooth start, truly.

Hermione was already piling food in her plate when they joined her and gradually, the conversations started anew, a couple of laughs and jibes being thrown in their direction which changed targets only once the rest of their dorm mates came through the doors.

Harry's relief was doomed to be short lived, apparently, and replaced quickly by alarm when Neville seemed to be having an aneurysm on the spot.

"Crap," he muttered, leaping from his seat with the other two at his heels.

Fred and George, having taken the seats closest to the entrance, were already ahead of them. "Hey, easy there pal." George was saying, while Fred mimicked Dean and Seamus' example of fanning their hands over Neville's face in rapid motions.

"Neville, Neville breathe." Harry grasped the other boy's shoulder and shook him to get his attention when anything they said failed.

He nodded encouragingly when Neville looked up. "Yes, that's it. In and out."

"We need to move him to the table," Fred said, glancing at the students that had crowded over.

"Agreed." they all chorused and Dean and Seamus hurried to make way, shouting at the other students to move back. The twins took hold of a gasping Neville's arms and pulled him slowly towards the Gryffindor Table.

"Brilliant, the teachers are coming over." Ron sighed, gesturing towards the running figures of McGonagall and Pomfrey, with Lupin and Flitwick close behind.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled, looking aghast. "Neville had no control over that, it was the stress! You know how he can be with crowds."

"I know, I know!" Ron held his hands up defensively, backing away from a fuming Hermione. "I'm not blaming him or anything. It's just that Gryffindor managed to make a spectacle of itself…again."

Hermione looked taken aback by that, wringing her hands together uncertainly.

Harry snorted, "As if that's anything new." he said dismissively, kneeling down and gathering Neville's things in his arms, smiling gratefully when Ron held out his hand once he stood back up. He deposited the books in Ron's arms and kept the backpack in his, which from the weight of it, contained more of them.

"Last year was the whole Chamber incident, while the year before that it was the Philosopher's Stone. I say we'll be bloody lucky if this is the only ruckus Gryffindor is dragged into for the year."

Ron laughed loudly, entire frame shaking and jostling his cargo.

"Come on, you two." Hermione said, chuckling herself. "Let's go see how Neville's doing."

The smile slowly slipped from Harry's face as he followed his friends, having an unsettling feeling deep within his gut that something major was going to occur. And this year, he simply hoped someone could put a stop to it because he knew that he definitely couldn't.

**-xXx-**

The raven haired boy jolted awake when a rough, piercing noise echoed from somewhere close, and for a moment he just looked blearily around, not comprehending the heavy scent of perfume that permeated his nostrils, or the dark drapes that hung from the windows to ward off any sunlight.

Then, his gaze landed on the snoring form of his best friend and he nearly groaned at the rueful realization they were still stuck in Divination.

Sliding a hand down his face in an attempt to shake off the remaining traces of sleep, Harry glanced about the oppressive room, taking in his slumbering classmates. They shared it with the Slytherins and even though they had to endure a couple of minutes of jeering insults at first, Trelawney had soon started her lecture – something about the workings of the Inner Eye, as she called it – and everyone had lasted precisely fifteen minutes before promptly falling asleep.

He had to do a double take however, to make sure he wasn't imagining things, when he spotted Lavender and Parvati scribbling furiously on their notebooks.

Were they seriously writing down everything that woman was saying?

He shook his head, having condemned them as helpless cases ever since he realized they took Trelawney's words to heart.

Checking his wrist watch, Harry contemplated going back to sleep. He didn't know if it'd be wise though, considering they had Potions next and only fifteen more minutes for the bell to ring.

He stifled a sigh.

Setting more comfortably in his seat, he drew the Divination book into his lap and stared dubiously at the chapter they were supposed to be working on.

At the very top of the page, the word _Tessomancy _was scribbled in purple, huge letters. The lesson was nearly over and Trelawney was still in the middle of explaining the concept behind that complicated definition, as she had made certain to stress. A definition which was given in the textbook in a few simple words; _the art of reading tea leaves._

Why did Trelawney insist on making their lives so much harder?

As if Snape alone wasn't enough.

A small wince escaped him, and he lifted his hand, looking at the paper cut on the pad of his thumb as though in a daze. Then, the first droplets of blood trickled down and landed on the yellowed page below.

Face suddenly contorting in horror, Harry quickly pushed the book away from him, causing it to land on the floor with a _thud _loud enough to startle the entire classroom into wakefulness, not that he noticed anyway. He fumbled with his robes, feeling more panicked by each second he failed to locate his wand.

He couldn't leave the bloodstain there! He couldn't – !

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, Harry's fingers finally wrapped around the familiar wooden handle and he pulled the wand out, ensuring his bleeding thumb was kept away when he gripped it. Tip centering on the opened book on the floor, he yelled, _"Scourgify!"_

The drop of blood slowly started fading away and Harry sucked in a deep breath once it was fully removed.

"Potter?"

His head jerked up and he nearly recoiled upon finding himself the focus of not only his professor but also the entire class's. Did they all see that…?

"Are you alright, child?" Trelawney questioned, looking between him and the book.

Harry nodded, ducking under the table to retrieve the textbook from the floor and placing it back on the table without meeting anyone's eyes. He enclosed his lightly bleeding thumb within his fist to avoid anyone seeing it before lifting his gaze to meet Trelawney's unblinking one.

"I'm fine, professor."

Trelawney looked hesitant and was just about to open her mouth when the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the walls, making her start in surprise.

_Thank Merlin for small mercies._

Like everyone else, Harry jumped out of his seat and stuffed his belongings into his backpack, itching to get out of that place.

"Hey, bugger off!"

Pausing midway in slinging his bag over his shoulder, Harry only caught a glimpse of Malfoy and his usual group of goons pretending to faint before Ron took hold of his arm and pulled him over to the trapdoor. He climbed down first and Ron set a hurried pace as soon as he joined him. Harry actually had to jog to match his friend's longer strides.

"That blasted little git! Can't he just get off your friggin' case?!"

"Hey, chill. After Buckbeak's stunt he was just looking for an excuse to pull one over me, no surprise there."

Ron turned his icy glare on him. "You kidding?! As if the way he's been flaunting that broken arm isn't enough. And it's not even that big of a deal! I mean, Madam Pomfrey had re-grown yours overnight. Trust that pompous prat to make such a mess out of it! Ya know, my dad even said Malfoy's dad has already filed a bloody complaint at the Ministry. Now _he_ takes the whole jerk thing to an entire new level. Remember last year? And to think I almost lost my sister because of him!"

Harry was really torn between being impressed Ron had actually said all that in one go and feeling concerned about his friend's mood swings.

Seriously, he went from being angry on Harry's behalf to being angry on Buckbeak's behalf and then on Ginny's behalf.

Not really knowing what to say about that, Harry just laughed sheepishly.

"Right, uhm, yeah. You know what, I think I'll run by the Infirmary for a moment."

"Yeah, yeah – wait…what?"

He snorted in amusement, patting Ron's shoulder before dashing down the hallway, waving over his shoulder at the other's frantic plea of, "Just don't be late for Snape's class or Hermione's going to have my head!" He had to admit though, his friend did have a point. If he was late for Potions again, he had a feeling Snape was going to assign him detention for the rest of the year.

Climbing down the Grand Staircase once he reached the first floor, he made a run for the Hospital Wing, sidestepping just in time a second year girl who had just exited.

"Ah, Potter." The matron paused in the middle of making one of the beds, presumably the one the little girl had been occupying. She flicked her wand and the covers, which had previously been a complete mess, stretched over the bed, smoothed out and perfectly ironed.

_Ron could make really good use of that spell._

He considered asking about the name of the enchantment, but the medi witch's next words had him switching gears almost in an instant.

"Not another Dementor attack, I hope?"

"That was _one _time." he said, exasperated. It was thanks to his fainting on the train that the Slytherins never gave him a moment of peace. "And it was a month ago. I haven't even come to the Infirmary since then."

"Well," the elderly woman chuckled wryly, "I suppose it should be a new record for you. Your previous scathe-free period was twenty-six days."

"Not my fault trouble always seems to find me." he grumbled moodily. Yeah, like he enjoyed getting injured.

Madam Pomfrey on the other hand, looked fairly unimpressed by his justification.

"What can I do for you today?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry blinked, remembering he was running on a tight schedule. "It's actually pretty minor compared to all other times." He unclenched his fist, showing her his bleeding thumb when she approached for a closer look. "I was wondering if you could give me some of that Healing Salve you've got for scrapes?"

She took hold of his hand, studying the superficial wound for a moment before looking up to his face. "This is a paper cut."

Harry frowned at the way she announced that, like it was a statement rather than a question. "Uh, yes?" he confirmed hesitantly, not really knowing if he needed to.

The witch just stared at him.

A drawn-out sigh passed through her lips after a while and she dropped his hand with a shake of the head. "And yet you are adamant about not being delicate." she muttered, disappearing inside her office.

Harry flushed red. "I'm not! It's just on my wand arm, and the bleeding just won't stop. I can't hold my wand properly and I don't want any blood on it, so – "

"Yes, whatever you say, young man." The woman came back out, a miniature jar grasped between her fingers.

Harry grunted in answer, dutifully presenting his hand when she held out hers.

Uncorking the circular little jar, she applied a small portion of the thick, greenish substance onto his thumb, carefully spreading it over the cut with practiced, sure motions. She inspected it for a moment, ensuring the wound was properly concealed beneath the salve before letting go of his hand.

"Why do you keep saying that?" he persisted still, remembering how she had called him that after the Dementor incident on the train ride.

"_Terrible things, they are." _she had said when McGonagall literally dragged him to the Infirmary before the welcoming feast. _"And the effect they have on people who are already delicate…"_

"Saying what, Potter?" she questioned, replacing the lid.

"That thing about my being delicate?" he explained, brows creasing together. "It's not like I'm frail or anything." It became kind of offending after the second time.

The medi witch actually chuckled. "Goodness, no." She gestured dismissively. "After the injuries you have sustained, I would say you are anything but, Potter."

Harry stared at her through hooded eyes. "Was that sarcasm?"

The woman's shoulders seemed to sag, a weary expression taking over her features and making her aged face appear even older. "Why would I make a mockery of the bravery you have shown?" She laid a gentle hand over of his shoulder, lips curling into a kind smile. "For someone so young, you possess a surprisingly noble soul, and combined with your outer appearance…well, let's just say it makes for a very unique combination."

Harry had an inkling she had just insulted him. "What's wrong with my appearance?"

"Nothing at all." the witch assured, "But perhaps, that is the problem."

Harry shook his hand in an effort to ease the itching sensation the cream was creating, starting to think he was wasting significant time.

"Don't you give me that look, young man." the woman chided, pointing an accusing finger at him, "All I'm saying is you would better get used to the effect you are going to have on others from now on. Not that it should come as a surprise. Both your parents were beautiful people, it is only natural their child would outshine them."

Harry's mind was already to the precious minutes that were trickling past. Nodding to show he was listening, he blew on his slightly burning finger. At least it was a sign the salve was doing its job.

"Anyways, thank you for humoring me, but I've got to go to class."

"Yes, yes, run along." the witch said, already walking back to her office.

Interpreting it as the dismissal it was, Harry made his way to the opened doors, coming to a screeching halt when his name was called again. Biting back a groan, he turned to face her. "Yes?"

"What about the scrape on your other hand? Did it finally heal?"

His glamoured hand twitched unwittingly and he had to resist the instinctual urge to hide it behind his back where it'd be out of sight. "Yeah, it gave me some trouble but it's finally gone."

Madam Pomfrey hummed bemusedly. "You should have let me have a look at it from the very beginning, Potter. I could have had it healed sooner."

"I know," said Harry, forcing a small smile on his face. "I got it while I was staying with my relatives and with all the housework and stuff I suppose I didn't give it much of a chance to close up properly. But it's fine now."

"That is good to hear. Now, off you go. Class will be starting soon."

Trying not to show how grateful those words made him, Harry merely nodded in reply and hurried to get out of there, glad for having an excuse to run.

A thought occurred to him suddenly that nearly had him backtracking.

After Potions, he had no more classes for the evening and right after dinner he had detention with the others. He really doubted he could slip away from his dorm mates unnoticed, and he needed to return down…there, tonight. Riddle had made it clear he was expected back.

Chewing the inside of his cheek worriedly, Harry glanced up and down the Staircase.

Whose wrath should he risk?

_I'm sooo doomed…_

With a resigned sigh, Harry climbed up the stairs to the second floor, willing to suffer a small deduction of House Points. Frightening as Snape could get, he had a long way to go before he was up to par with Riddle's level of intimidating.

He slowed down when he neared a group of passing students. They were talking loudly amongst themselves, and they seemed absorbed in their conversation but Harry still pretended to search for something in his backpack. They walked by without a hassle and once they were out of sight, he ran inside the abandoned bathroom, closing the door shut behind him.

He waited for a brief moment but there was no sign of the bathroom's usual occupant, so Harry ventured closer to the sinks.

Standing before the tap with the miniature basilisk engraved in its side, he hissed softly, **_"Open."_**

In reaction to the Parseltongue that spilled from his lips, the sinks began to separate, the one in front of him sinking slowly into an opening in the tiled floor to reveal the gaping hole behind that served as the entrance to the underground tunnel. Preparing himself for the biting cold that awaited, Harry took a deep breath and dove inside.

The spiraling tube had lost the element of surprise after that initial time, and though it still made him choke up with its steep descent, there was no shrill screeching.

Unceremoniously landing in the antechamber, Harry made a face at the many hollow carcasses and skeletal bones that littered the ground, gingerly stepping over them to reach the nearest tunnel.

He dusted his clothes as fast as he could and pointedly ignoring the long, curving skin that the Basilisk had shed who knew how many years ago, he rushed to the sealed entrance of the Chamber where he repeated the word 'open' in the language of snakes. The ornamental serpents that had been digging their fangs into the wall slowly withdrew, coiling back, and the door slipped open, swinging in an arc to grant Harry passage.

Last year, knowing he was going to face a snake that was, quite possibly, very eager to sink its teeth in him in a similar manner, the display had been downright creepy.

Now, with a different sort of creature in the Chamber's depths, Harry didn't really know how to feel. There was no doubt that this creature could be as deadly as the Basilisk, but the intentions were different.

Only a year ago, Riddle had stood over him while his pet's poisonous venom spread through Harry's body, and had done nothing to prevent it from delivering a slow, torturous death. The Riddle from back then had wanted him gone, wanted him to pay for the unsightly fate he had brought upon Lord Voldemort's grand future.

_That _Riddle he could understand; he craved revenge.

The Riddle that had appeared before him only the previous night though; no, he still remained a complex puzzle, one that Harry wasn't certain he wanted to solve if it meant getting involved.

…Then again, wasn't he already?

Carding a hand through his hair, the raven haired teen stepped over the threshold and climbed down the few steps that separated the entrance from the main chamber.

He eyed the serpent statues that loomed at either side of the tiled platform apprehensively, their shadows reflecting on the black waters of the lake that stretched out beneath them and reached all the way up front where it stopped under the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin.

Harry didn't know which unnerved him the most; the snakes, or Slytherin.

He shuddered suddenly, the low temperature inside the vast space making goosebumps rise all over his skin. Now that he thought about it, it was much colder here than outside in the antechamber.

_I wouldn't put it past him to be the cause of it._ Which reminded him…

"Riddle?" he called out loud when he failed to locate the other in the near vicinity.

Receiving no reply, Harry frowned. "Ridd – gahh!" he yelped, whirling sharply around when the metal door closed with a reverberating, booming sound, scaring him half way out of his skin.

_So much for the screeching part. _

Leaning against the stone wall next to the door, was none other than Slytherin's esteemed heir.

_Speak of the devil…_

That dark green gaze never shifted from his face, even as Riddle unfolded his arms and stepped away from the wall. He crouched down, one hand bracing on the ground, and jumped the remaining distance to the lower level, skipping the stairs completely.

He landed gracefully on his feet, back straight and looking as refined and immaculate as ever.

Harry scoffed. _Show off._

"I thought our date was scheduled for later tonight," Riddle bridged the distance between them with steady strides, head tipping ever so slightly to the side once he stood at arm's length from Harry, "preferably when everyone was asleep."

Fighting to not let it show on his face exactly how much the close proximity bothered him, Harry crossed his arms over his chest and accompanied the action with an eye roll. "Can't you ever greet people properly? It's only polite, right? And what's with that stupid thing about a date?"

Bypassing his last question entirely, the other teen chuckled softly. "Of course, where are my manners?" Long, elegant fingers reached out and cupped the side of his face, a thumb stroking leisurely over his cheekbone. "Did you want a welcome kiss?"

Neck heating up at the overly familiar touch, Harry slapped the boy's arm away. "Cut it out!" he snarled, the memory of last night's kiss still too fresh on his mind.

"You shouldn't bare your claws at your master, my pet." drawled Riddle.

"Don't call me that!" Harry seethed, expression furious. "And you most certainly don't have any bloody ownership over me!"

The corners of Riddle's mouth curled into a crooked smile. "Don't I?"

The same fingers from before shot out, curling around Harry's wrist like they were steel and as much as he struggled and pulled, their hold remained unyielding. The glamour Riddle himself had placed on his hand the previous night came crashing down the instant contact was made, like an invisible veil had been ripped away and the burning, bright red lines came into view, giving Harry sudden pause.

Starting from the third knuckle of his index finger, it traveled all the way down to his wrist at which point it connected with an identical line that trailed sideways from the knuckle of his little finger. As a result, a crimson **V** had been formed on the back of his hand, created by his own blood and branded into his very flesh.

Like an open wound that had only just been inflicted, only it couldn't get infected or healed.

"And exactly whose mark do you believe this is?" Riddle squeezed his wrist as emphasis, earning a small wince from Harry, before his hand was shoved away.

Staggering backwards a couple of steps, Harry cradled his sore limb, watching mutely as the marking vanished behind the guise of the glamour once more.

"The only thing this mark can do is to ensure my loyalty, not my obedience."

Riddle laughed suddenly, the sound far too normal, too _human_, for Harry's liking and the fact that it echoed all around as though there were five more Riddles concealed in the shadows, did little to nothing to the mounting sense of foreboding unraveling inside of him.

"Oh, Harry…" Riddle sounded like he was speaking to a child who hadn't realized the idiocy of its own words. "It can do much more than that, I assure you."

Right there it was again, that eerie feeling.

"…Like what?"

Riddle gestured airily with his hand. "This and that." He gave a small shrug of the shoulders. "You'll find out soon enough, don't worry."

_Why doesn't that sound comforting?_

"In the meanwhile," Riddle continued, "your loyalty was the one key factor for the success of my plan, and now that I've acquired it…" he left the sentence hanging, not that he really needed to elaborate for Harry to catch on.

"Yeah, but you got it by force," Harry growled, hands clenching by his sides. "You took my blood without my consent and used it as you saw fit."

"Yes," deadpanned Riddle, expression bored. "Blood Magic can be like that, unfortunately, for those who aren't diligent enough when it comes to their own life-force."

"Don't give me that!" Harry marched over and jabbed a finger in Riddle's chest as roughly as he could. "You knew my background, knew that if it wasn't taught here at Hogwarts there was no way I'd have even heard of Blood Magic before."

His forearm was seized abruptly and Riddle spun around, dragging Harry along with him. "Consider it payback, my sweet, little murderer." Riddle's face came closer as he spoke, far too close, and Harry's first rational instinct was to draw back. He moved away, but Riddle followed his hasty retreat step for step, those piercing, dark eyes never allowing Harry to look away.

"After all, it was in this very Chamber that you killed me to save Ginevra Weasley's life, was it not?" Harry visibly started when his back came in harsh contact with something solid, and he paled upon realizing that digging against his spine were the stone steps of the entrance.

Riddle appeared to take great pleasure in his anxiety, fingers tightening painfully around his forearm and lips pulling back into a dark, teeth-revealing smile.

"You earned a year's respite for the world and look at where that brought you." Hot breath assaulted Harry's face with each word, making his heart beat so fast and so loud, he was certain the other had no trouble hearing it too. "…At my mercy."

_No, wait._

He twisted his head just in time for warm lips to connect with his cheek but despite the altered destination they continued undeterred, trailing down to his jaw line where they nipped almost playfully before journeying lower even.

Teeth nibbled at his flesh, suckling with an intensity that had Harry's mouth parting in an inaudible gasp.

"Riddl- ngh, stop…"

A particularly vicious suck sent whatever had been left of Harry's jumbled thoughts into a frenzy. The moment his knees started to shake, he knew he needed to do something and fast.

He groped blindly for his wand, searching with his free hand inside his school robes and panicking when he found nothing. Something bumped against his fingers as he made to retract his hand and instead he reached further, in the back pocket of his pants where his fingers finally enclosed around a familiar wooden stick.

Wand gripped securely, he elbowed Riddle in the ribs, taking the chance to bolt when the other's hold grew slack in momentary astonishment.

Riddle straightened up, and other than a displeased curl of the lips, he didn't appear winded in the slightest. He even chuckled when he caught sight of the wand Harry had trained on him. "You can't hurt me, Harry. The Blood Magic won't stand for it."

_I know._

Really, he did. The mark had turned scorching hot, singeing his flesh in warning.

He wanted, needed even, to do something that'd hurt Riddle, wound him fatally for everything he had put Harry through, for assuming he was at liberty to do any of those things.

But he couldn't.

His teeth were gritting together with the effort he was putting into uttering one spell, anything would do.

As much as he tried, however, nothing came out. Something was restricting him. Even the most innocent of hexes didn't work.

_I can't…can't harm him in any way._

So far he had only suspected, but this was the first time he confirmed it. That knowledge, the concrete proof, ended up being too much and Harry deflated, wand arm lowering with jerky, antsy motions to rest by his side. A full body twitch was elicited from him when Riddle circled around him, standing right behind Harry and putting him on edge by keeping out of sight.

Fingertips ran lightly along his spine, their presence noticeable enough to make Harry shudder in response, back arching without his permission.

Shit, he hadn't even known his spine was ticklish.

Robed arms slipped around his midsection, one hand coming upwards to enclose his neck, applying the barest of pressures. Still, Harry's breath hitched, all too aware that if Riddle so desired he could crash his windpipe in a matter of seconds.

"I'm quite tolerant, Harry." Riddle whispered in his ear, nose nuzzling Harry's exposed throat, "After all, a person's patience is bound to reach new levels if they remained trapped within the pages of a tattered, old diary for years on. However, if you aren't careful enough, you might just overstep some very delicate boundaries, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

All of that was said while nosing the too sensitive skin of Harry's neck, the spot which Riddle had tormented tingling even from the smallest of touches.

"Who knows what awful misfortune could befall Hogwarts' precious students?"

The cruelty of his words contradicted his gentle, nearly tender actions so violently that Harry's mind failed to comprehend the full meaning of that sentence right off the start.

And when he finally did, it rattled him whole, befuddling his brain.

"You…you'd harm children, just – just like that?"

Riddle's chin came to rest upon his shoulder, fingers still wrapped around his throat like some sort of collar, restraining Harry's movements to a bare minimum. "Don't sound so shocked, my sweet. You, better than anyone, should know how little care I have for morals."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, tensing when Riddle shifted accordingly so that their cheeks rubbed together. "…I might have suspected something."

The other teen hummed in approval, torso vibrating against Harry's back.

A docile Riddle was scary, Harry decided right there and then. Quite possibly, scarier even than a fuming Riddle, simply because he didn't know what to do with him. For all he knew, anything he could say or do held the potential of ticking Riddle off and then they'd be right back to square one.

"Err, I need to get back to class, like, real soon." He didn't know how much more of this petting he could take before he freaked out. "I only came to tell you I wouldn't be coming here tonight. I…sort of got detention."

That seemed to get Riddle's attention. "Detention?" he echoed, the disapproval evident in his tone.

"Whose fault do you think that is?" Harry returned defensively. "If I had gone to sleep at a normal time, I wouldn't have missed an entire morning of classes."

Riddle removed himself with an irritant clicking of the tongue, "And how long will your detention be lasting?"

"Two weeks." Harry fidgeted under the narrowed eyed look that his words lamented.

A low, threatening growl rumbled forth, and Riddle stalked closer, bringing his face dangerously near Harry's. "You," he said, stressing out the word, "will not be having detention again. I won't have you look like a delinquent."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "It's n-not like I'm doing it on purpose!"

Riddle made a rough sound of disbelief, arching a dubious eyebrow, making Harry huff in righteous indignation. "I'm serious."

The other waved him off. "No matter. A teacher can't assign you detention if you've already been given one, but you should get going. Better not give them reason to be cross with you. First, however…" he trailed off, pale fingers skimming down Harry's arm to deftly plunge away his wand.

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry, reaching forward to take it back, frantic he was going to lose it for good this time around, that Riddle was going to do some irreparable damage.

Riddle held it out of reach, smirking superiorly down at Harry. "I have use for this. It'll be returned to you once it's served its purpose."

The teen bit his lip, watching forlornly his precious wand being twirled between those long digits, resenting the thought of it remaining in that person's hands for an infinite amount of time…again. Without his wand he felt exposed, naked even. Technically speaking, he didn't really have a use for it during either tonight's detention or dinner and Potions were out of the question since the more advanced potions which required enchantments were only taught to fourth years and above.

_But I need it with me!_

Perhaps he had become too dependant on the safety it provided, or maybe Riddle's self-imposed company had instilled a sense of paranoia in him, but still, the fact remained that he wanted his wand with him at all times.

"Fine," he forced through gritted teeth, glaring at the other. "But it better come back to me in one piece."

"Have a nice evening, Harry." was the sardonic reply.

Swallowing the retort he was about to give, Harry stormed to the entrance, climbing the steps and slamming the metal door shut behind him, praying to whatever deity was willing to listen for some patience.

Merlin knew he was going to need lots and lots of it.

**_to be continued…_**

**A/N: **I know it took me too long to update, but here's a lengthy chapter for compensation.

What do you think about the proceedings? Let me know.


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